


A Sudden Keen Glance

by OrodrethTheTraitor



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:27:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23255452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrodrethTheTraitor/pseuds/OrodrethTheTraitor
Summary: At the Council of Elrond, a butterfly flaps its wings...
Comments: 21
Kudos: 36





	1. A Sudden Keen Glance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elrond knows the way.

_"Of course, my dear Bilbo, if you had really started this affair, you might be expected to finish it. But you know well enough now that starting is too great a claim for any…"_  
  
Mithrandir continues, soothing the old Hobbit's guilt with kindly meant falsehoods. _Celebrimbor and Gorthaur started this._ One trying to heal the hurts of the world, the other trying to win its dominion. One my cousin, the other his murderer.

Gorthaur's Ring was made, in part, because Celebrimbor ignored all counsel. Whose wise yet too-gently-given counsel did he ignore? Galadriel's and Ereinion's - cousins both - _and mine_. 

Isildur, too, ignored all counsel and continued the folly when he refused to cast that Ring into the Fire whence it came. Whose wise yet too-gently-given counsel did he ignore? Cirdan's - and _mine_. And whose far-descendant was Isildur, to be so proud and foolish? _My own brother's._  
  
Blame is to be assigned, Mithrandir, and not so diffused as to make it seem _no one_ started this. And that blame lies as much with me as with anyone save Gorthaur and Celebrimbor. Alas, of those two, one will never repent of his deeds, and while the other surely has, Namo still holds him. 

_`I will take the Ring'_ , Bilbo's heir says, _'though I do not know the way.'_  
  
Namo take _me_ if I remain deedless in the face of _that!_ _I_ know the way - better than any other. _And it is time to right many a wrong._  
  
I raise my eyes and look upon one who would be a hero, and he knows that he will not be going to Mordor alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"Elrond raised his eyes and looked at him, and Frodo felt his heart pierced by the sudden keenness of the glance"_ \- FOTR
> 
> Gandalf's and Frodo's quotes are verbatim from "The Council of Elrond."


	2. Wishful Thinking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two oldsters discuss matters.

Galdor walked out of the Council, dumbfounded. Almost in a daze, Cirdan's messenger, once of Gondolin, before that of Nevrast, sought an old friend. Glorfindel he found in one of the many gardens, sitting crosslegged, face drawn with tension.   
  
"That was ... it was.." Galdor's voice trailed off weakly.  
  
"A council at which all but those few who had already, and in advance, made the important decisions, were mere spectators?" The Golden Flower laughed mirthlessly. "Have we not sat in such councils before? Turgon's were not dissimilar, as I recall."  
  
_"At least Turgon's councils were his own!"_ Galdor replied fiercely. "He was no one's..."  
  
He halted. Speaking openly against Elrond was rarely wise. Though the Peredhel was far from being vindictive or insecure, nonetheless those beneath him could only go so far without risking censure.   
  
Even Erestor, who had departed the valley in a black fury (and fully armed), saying that if Imladris had become an abode of puppets and fools, and his councils were to be cast aside like so much chaff, at least he would not sit in safety while others risked their lives - had not mentioned Elrond by name.  
  
Glorfindel stood and put his hand on Galdor's shoulder. "Yet you are mistaken, old friend. Not _all_ was decided in advance. Frodo's decision to bear the Ring was his own, and made just now, before all of us."  
  
Galdor frowned. "The Halfling is brave beyond doubt, and perhaps even capable, after a fashion. I doubt not that he will journey far and overcome many perils ere Sauron captures him."  
  
"He will not go alone, my friend. Were the companions chosen today not worthy?"  
  
Galdor shook his head, not in denial but in exasperation. "Surely. Mithrandir we know. Aragorn I know by reputation, and Boromir is obviously a warrior of surpassing prowess, as far as Mortals go. Legolas is not a poor choice - his skill with the bow is justly famed. It is fine to trust to friendship, and Frodo should have at least one other of his own kind along to support him - Samwise will do. Even the Dwarf, I would not object to, were this not a mission of _stealth!_ "  
  
Glorfindel nodded in agreement, but replied "Two remain to be chosen. I am certain that Elrond will choose them well."  
  
"Then you will be accompanying them?"  
  
"Surely. While I am not one for stealth, neither is Mithrandir. And why was I sent back to Ennor, if not to help bring about the defeat of Sauron? Who is to say that the Fellowship will not split? I am certain that some will journey with Frodo to Orodruin, while others strike elsewhere. Surely Sauron will need to be greatly distracted for Frodo's mission to succeed."  
  
Hope awakened in Galdor's heart. Yes, Mithrandir, Glorfindel and a few others - Elrohir, Elladan and Inglor came to mind - could do this. Small companies of Elves had, after all, done rather more than 'distract' Sauron, in the past.   
  
Though, Galdor thought, four or five was still too small a strength for such a mission of diversion. Might Celeborn join the Fellowship in Lorien, or send one of his warriors in his stead? Might his own Lord journey south by sea, and thence up Anduin? If so, he thought, he would gladly follow Cirdan to whatever end.   
  
Or might perhaps yet other Great Ones join the Fellowship? Galdor knew to a certainty, for Cirdan had told him so, that both Daeron of Doriath and Maglor Fëanorion still lived in Ennor. Both could stand against any servants of the Enemy, and wield both sword and song to great effect. The most astounding feat of 'arms' Galdor had seen, in all his long years, had been Daeron standing off and ultimately driving back a large force of Orcs near-singlehandedly, through the sheer power of his voice.   
  
Unfortunately, Galdor had no idea where Daeron might be. But if any Elves knew Maglor's whereabouts, it would be Elrond and Erestor. Perhaps more lay behind the counsellor's seemingly rash departure than met the eye. Erestor was known to him as both canny and shrewd - he'd not obtained his position through the sort of behavior he'd displayed on this day.  
  
The ancient Sinda smiled. Yes, Elrond _was_ both wise and subtle, and was Lord of Imladris for good reason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tolkien considered the idea that the Galdor who attended the Council of Elrond and Galdor of the Tree (one of the twelve lords of Gondolin) could be the same person. He rejected this idea, but I didn't :)


	3. Himling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erestor seeks a kinsman.

_ Two weeks later _

* * *

Erestor reached the shores of the Sea. Soon he found the small rowboat left for him by the Falathrim, and headed towards Himling. The last remnant of sunken Beleriand, now an island, lay just over the horizon.  
  
When he reached the shore, he felt utterly unmoored. The land no longer bore any resemblance to the Hill on which he'd once dwelt. The top of Himring had been barren, but away from the beach, the land was now heavily wooded.  
  
He knew that he needed merely to wait - his presence would not go unnoticed here, for most Elves considered the island accursed and avoided it. Even Cirdan's own mariners sailed miles around rather than pass it by. So, he pulled the boat ashore, placed his sword in it, walked a hundred yards down the beach, and sat down.   
  
The island was full of dark memory.Here the hosts of his lords had assembled before the Nirnaeth, and gone forth with high hopes. Few ever returned, and his son and many of his friends had been among the fallen. But his thoughts were disturbed by the point of a sword, between his shoulder blades, at the exact gap in his spine to guarantee a swift and painless death. He knew to keep perfectly still.

"Are you armed?", asked the familiar voice.  
  
"I hold no weapon that could harm _you_ , Uncle."  
  
The sword drew back instantly, and Erestor stood up and turned around.A moment later he found himself pulled off the ground in a fierce embrace.

"Eressetor! Is it really you?"  
  
“It is. Kindly put me down, will you?"  
  
Maglor set the younger elf down on his feet, but still held him at arm's length, seemingly trying to make sure his eyes did not trick him before replying: "Hisilrië?”  
  
"She is well. She has missed you. As have I!”

Maglor sat roughly down on the sand.“I do not go where I am not welcome.Nothing is so futile as wishing the past is other than it is.But I need not ask why you are here. Sauron moves."

Erestor, too, sat.The Elf before him, aside from being rather unkempt, seemed hale, and indeed healthier than he’d been when he’d helped drive Angmar’s armies from the field a thousand years back.Finally he began what he’d been sent here to do.

"Yes,” he replied, “and we are called to fight him. _All_ of us. My hatred of Moringhotto and his servants has not lessened over the years."

The unspoken challenge hung heavy in the salty air. A few waves broke.  
  
Maglor started suddenly. "Nor mine! Think you..." - but his voice trailed off, and he seemed to diminish again. "I am less than I was, Eressetor. What do you expect me to do?”  
  
“Even if you are half the man you once were, you are still greater than all but a few!Do you not know how many have departed? Gildor sailed but amonth ago, the damned coward, he abandoned us on the very eve of battle! We need you, Kanafinwë Macalaure Feänorion! You help no-one by sitting here in exile. _We need you._ "  


"Kanafinwë Macalaure Feänorion...” the older Elf repeated, as if he'd forgotten his own name. He hesitated for a long while, then rose. “will do what he can."   
  
Erestor stood and embraced him. "Let us come away from this place - _it_ is not what it was. Is your sword still sharp?"  
  
Maglor looked at him quizzically. "Of course it's sharp. Do we now forge swords that need to be sharpened more than once?"  
  
Erestor frowned. "I did not know whether you still had your old one. You have missed much. When you meet the others, you'll find you're not the only one who's diminished."  
  
When they reached the boat, Maglor startled again. "Is that Curvo’s sword?"  
  
"Yes, Uncle. Have you forgotten that I retrieved it when we withdrew from Doriath?But let us look forward, not back."  
  
Maglor nodded. "Indeed. I will leave my names on this island. If anyone is to call me anything, I prefer 'Kano'."  
  
Erestor nodded his assent and began rowing them back to the mainland. Little was said in the boat. For all their shared past, both now dwelled upon the doom that lay ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my verse, Erestor was born in the same year as Celebrimbor. Since his parents lived on the same street in Tirion as Curufin, he and Celebrimbor knew each other almost from birth and were lifelong besties. He married Hisilrië, Celebrimbor's extracanonical-but-not-anticanonical sister, which makes him Maglor's nephew-by-marriage.
> 
> "I do not go where I am not welcome" -- Maglor _would_ in fact be welcomed by Imladris' leaders, but less so by others who dwell there.


	4. Wearisome Speech

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interrogating a prisoner...

"They lied on us. Yesss they did. Said we creeps into cradles, drinks blood, and slips away. Stupid fat Men! Drink blood and leave all the tender meat? Never, my precious…"

Seregon, Counsellor of Taur-nu-Fuin, once of Doriath, shudders at the words. Not from disgust - he's heard far worse from captured Orcs - but from the sheer (and rare) rationality of what the 'Gollum' has just said, and what it implies. It seems that at least one of Thuringwethil's brood walks in his woods yet again. He knows that he must notify his King, and that this threat must be dealt with quickly.

Yet he also knows that this prisoner is one of the most dangerous he’s ever dealt with. Not _at all_ the sort who can be allowed the sight of the Sun from time to time. Seregon is not heartless enough to keep any living creature caged as this prisoner is for long, so he knows what he must do. Whether the ‘Gollum’ will go to Badhron’s Halls or to whatever great beyond Mortals are said to go to is not his concern, but Seregon must send him there.

Thus the interview ends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, obviously, Gollum didn't escape, and Legolas was sent to Imladris with a very different message.
> 
> Taur-nu-Fuin is Sindarin for “Mirkwood.” Badhron is the Sindarin name for Namo. Seregon is (I believe) an OC created by Jay of Lasgalen.
> 
>  _"The wood was full of the rumour of him, dreadful tales even among beast and birds. The woodmen said that there was a new terror abroad, a ghost that drank blood. It climbed trees to find nests; it crept into holes to find the young; it slipped through windows to find cradles."_ \- Gandalf, FOTR


	5. Flight to Fangorn Forest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An Istar takes a journey.

_Snow flew on Caradhras…  
_  
To control a storm at great distance was no easy thing, even for the mightiest of the Istari. But Saruman required the Pass over the Hithlaegir blocked, and blocked it would be. His focus was complete as he stood atop Orthanc.   
  
About him lay the impregnable defenses of Isengard. With thousands of Orcs and Men within his walled citadel, the only armies which could threaten him here - those of Gondor and Mordor - were both far away and presently bent on destroying each other. 

So, he paid no heed to aught which passed southwards, and thus did not sense the dark forms plummeting from the low clouds until they were nearly upon him. 

Then, no time to flee, he must fight. Lightning blazed from his staff, destroying his enemies. One, two, three fell from the sky. But there were too many, and soon they were about him, their talons tearing at his cloak, and his staff, above all his staff.  
  
Four, five, six fell, but then the staff was knocked away, and one of his assailants flew off with it. A great beating of wings knocked him off his feet, and talons of merciless strength gripped him. And now he too was borne through the air, away from the Tower.  
  
Too disoriented to make full use of the considerable powers he retained even staffless, he noticed only that the yellow eyes of his captors, usually cold, now blazed in anger. And that he was borne upwards, now to thrice the height of Orthanc, now nearly a league.  
  
Meneldor spoke. "I bear a message from Radagast the Brown."  
  
 _The Bird-tamer you called me. And so I am. Goodbye, old friend!_  
  
The Eagle loosed his grip, and Saruman fell, down, down, down. Arda drew the Istar towards itself, ever faster. He struck the upper branches of an ancient oak of Fangorn, with such force that its trunk was shivered - Saruman's last mortal blow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"Radagast the Bird-tamer! Radagast the Simple! Radagast the Fool! Yet he had just the wit to play the part that I set him."_ \- Saruman, FOTR


	6. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three people going in different directions.

A solitary Elf rides without rest towards Gondor. When his horse tires, he leaves it behind, and calls to the riderless horses in this land famed for them. Enough come to speed him on his way. Black is his armor, and bright his sword. These feel strange to him, for he has not borne them for a thousand years. Such has been his choice, never to bear these again except in the last need.

Another, even more solitary Elf heads for Mordor. Unlike the black-armored one, none ever know of his passage. Not the birds or beasts, nor even the trees. Only the grass and the stones he treads upon are in any way aware of him. So I pass through Arda Marred, he reflects sadly as he seeks once more to leave it. Always his previous attempts have failed, as the battles in which he sought to fall were turned into victories by his own hand, even when _every last one_ of the Elves he took into battle with him had fallen. So, for years beyond count, he has fought the battles alone. He hopes to meet Sauron himself this time, and so make his end.

In Lorien, Galadriel awakes with renewed fëa and hröa. She feels better rested than she has in many _yeni_. Were it not for the approaching doom, she would feel like singing. She sees the troubled face of her beloved still dreaming, and knows well the source of her renewal. Can she share it with him? Not the source, but the strength? The joy with which she had awakened soon dissipates as she perceives the answer. Ai, she had not spoken truly to Frodo when she said "To bear a Ring of Power is to be alone." Or rather, she had not yet known how truly she had spoken. The joy is gone now, but the strength remains.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Yeni" is the plural of the Quenya "yen"; one yen is 144 years.
> 
> I'd love to hear your guesses as to who the second Elf is. I'm not entirely sure myself!


	7. The Unknown Swan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sung heroes unsung.

It was so easy to blend in with the tall, proud Men of Dol Amroth. Many were of a height with him, or nearly so, and shared his dark hair and pale face. It was good that he had not his mother's features, lest he be marked as an impostor, doubtless one of the 'lesser' Men, he thought wryly. But helmed and gauntleted, he appeared every inch a Swan Knight. It had been easy to procure the armor; he was, after all, a practiced thief.

Many Orcs and Easterlings fell to his sword. They were hardly a match for him, but that was not his concern. More troubling was the sight of the burning city. That was unbearable, so he kept his eyes towards Anduin as much as possible. Thus he saw the winged beast descend upon the King of the Fields, dooming horse and rider. This was a worthy foe indeed, so he approached as quickly and stealthily as chance allowed.

A slender Rohir beheaded the fell-beast, but there was no mistaking the one who rose from its death throes. One of the Ulairi - perhaps their Lord. The Ulair raised its mace to the one who had defied it. The woman faced her enemy bravely, much as his own wife had. And though that memory filled him with black rage, though the mace broke the lady's arm and her death was near, he did not break his measured stride, for these Ulairi were among the mightiest of Morgoth's servants left in the world save Sauron, and this opportunity would not come again. 

oOo

Angmar taunted his prey, lifting her off the ground, slowly squeezing her throat as he hissed "Die now!" He could not have anticipated the attack that came from behind -- harsh Valarin words of command! Nearly forced out of his body, he dropped his prey to turn upon his unseen assailant, but slowly, so slowly..

oOo

A - child? - crept up behind the Ulair with a dagger, but Maglor strode past him and sliced the wraith in two, diagonally from the shoulder to the waist. Deathless or not, that would send this one to the Void. It had been all too easy. But there were many enemies left on the field, and naught he could do for the woman and the - small Man? - so he turned back to the battle.

oOo

Try as they might, Imrahil and Aragorn, Eomer, and later Eowyn and Merry could none of them ever discover which of the Swan Knights had done the great deed. The Swans did not lie, and none who had survived the Pelennor claimed to have killed the Witch-King, so the Lords of Gondor and Rohan sadly concluded that the hero had been killed later in the battle. The Black Breath must have weakened him, they thought. In that, at least, they were correct, for after the fighting was done he had had barely enough strength left to cast away the armor and vanish into the White Mountains, and afterwards lay ill for three days.

In the following year, the Men of Minas Tirith raised a monument to this hero and all the others who had done deeds similar in valor, if less in renown. The inscription read 'To The Unknown'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"And here in Rivendell there live still some of his chief foes: the Elven-wise, lords of the Eldar from beyond the furthest seas. They do not fear the Ringwraiths, for those who have dwelt in the Blessed Realm live at once in both worlds, and against both the Seen and the Unseen they have great power."_ \- Gandalf, FOTR
> 
> "Ulairi" -- Sindarin for Nazgul.
> 
> Valarin "words of command" were (for example) used by Gandalf to close the door behind them when the Fellowship fled Balin's tomb. Feänor knew more Valarin then any other Elf, and I have to imagine his sons knew a fair amount themselves. And when spoken by the mightiest singer the Noldor ever produced, I imagine they'd be powerful indeed...


End file.
